Dawn's Fairytale
by Zab Jade
Summary: After the events of The Reforging of the Key, Willow's spell to "fix" Tara and Dawn is derailed when Dawn uses a magic pen to write a story, drawing them all into the story. To get back to the real world, they have to work together to rescue Princess Buffy. Willow's failed spell is revealed, and the Scoobies discover the reason for the new relationship between Spike, Tara, and Dawn
1. Chapter 1

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Summary:** Almost a week after the events of _The Reforging of the Key_ , Willow's spell to "fix" Tara and Dawn is derailed when Dawn unknowingly uses an enchanted pen to write a fairytale, drawing herself and the others into the story. To get back to the real world, they have to all work together to rescue Princess Buffy. Along the way, Willow's failed spell is revealed, and the Scoobies discover the reason for the new relationship between Spike, Tara, and Dawn.

 **Author's Note:** This fic probably won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read The Reforging of the Key.

 **…**

Something was not right. Something was really most definitely not right, and Willow intended to get to the bottom of it and fix it. Her resolve face firmly on, she pushed aside her feelings of guilt for lying to Tara and started up the first of the night's spells.

Just out of phase enough with reality to be both intangible and undetectable to all senses, she slipped from the backroom of The Magic Box and made her way back home. She knew Tara, Dawn, and Spike would be there, having a movie night. She'd been invited as well, but had claimed a last minute tutoring session.

 _I have to do this,_ she told herself. She wasn't going to be spying on them, not really. All three of them had been… _off_ ever since that night almost a week ago, when Spike had freaked out over the bot, and Dawn – who had randomly gotten a perm without even consulting her, despite all the nasty chemicals involved – had screamed at her about it. _And Tara ran off after Spike without even so much as a hello._

Tara – all three of them really – had been so strange since that night. Dawn and Spike seemed to have lost whatever emotional healing they'd gained since Buffy's death – heck, Spike actually seemed to be _worse_ than right after her death – and Tara had been so _different_. She was still her Tara, still gentle and sweet, but she had a new confidence about her. She was decisive and had become more comfortable stating her opinions.

There wasn't anything wrong with that, but it had happened so abruptly. That just wasn't normal. Nor was the way Dawn and Spike were acting. They'd always been weirdly attached to each other, especially since the fiasco at Glory's tower, but it was even deeper now. And they both seemed equally attached to Tara, to the point where Dawnie obviously preferred her to Willow instead of viewing them equally as she once had.

 _I'm not jealous,_ she thought firmly. _I'm just concerned._

Then she passed through the front door and very definite jealousy at the closeness she saw surged through her. Tara and Spike were sitting on the couch together with Dawn on the floor in front of them. The vampire was curled up against her girlfriend's side as she absently ran a hand through his hair. Tara laughed about something happening in the movie and ate a handful of popcorn before holding another handful out where Spike could eat it from her hand.

 _Eew. Why would she do that?_ Willow wondered in disgust. There was definitely something very wrong here. She had to figure out what and fix it. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she triggered the next spell, this one designed to show her any magics as well as revealing the emotions of those around her.

The only magic around the three of them was…. Well, that was weird. Why would Tara have put a binding spell on Spike? At least it explained the creepy feeding of the undead. He couldn't grab his own popcorn with his hands bound together like that. It didn't, however, explain the cuddling and petting of the undead. And nothing really explained the binding spell itself. If Tara was worried enough to use one, despite Spike being completely harmless when it came to humans, why would she be treating him like… well… a pet or something?

Willow shook her head in bewildered unease and studied their emotions. Dawn was grieving her mother and sister, the emotions fresher and rawer than they should have been, but covered with the happiness and contentment of sharing a nice evening in with people she loved. Thick bands of emotion connected her to Tara and Spike. The connection to Tara wasn't quite parent and child, but the one between Dawn and Spike definitely was.

The bleached blond's emotions were a mix of depression, grief, and a sense of horrible loss, all tangled together with the confusion of too many life-changing events in too short a period of time. Keeping that all in check was a feeling of safety and calm somehow connected to Tara and her binding spell.

What kind of sick freak felt _safe_ and _calm_ from being bound? She shuddered in revulsion and turned her attention to Tara. There was confidence and warmth, plus sadness that two people she loved so much were hurting. There was determination to do whatever she could to help them through it. The emotions connecting her to Spike…. It wasn't romantic or sexual in any way, but she loved him deeply and that love was returned. There was also a sense of… of… nothing really quite fit, but the closest Willow could think of was ownership.

Her shy, sweet, timid lover had been replaced by a confident, assertive woman who felt like she _owned_ someone and got a sense of power and strength from it. Willow felt sick. Tara – _her_ Tara – would never want to own someone. Even if that someone was a vampire, and not an actual human being. She couldn't see the magical traces, but Spike had to have done something. Some kind of spell that had bound Dawn to him emotionally and was turning Tara into a replacement for his crazy, ho-bag ex. She was sure the creepy vampiress was into all sorts of weird stuff.

 _Don't worry, baby,_ Willow thought as she ghosted back through the door to return to The Magic Box and research a way to turn Tara and Dawn back to normal. _I'll find a way to undo whatever he's done to you and Dawnie. I'll make everything better._

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Tara laughed at the antics on the TV screen and reached into the bag of popcorn, holding some out for Spike once she'd eaten hers. Her other hand was running through his hair, and she was pretty sure he would have been purring if he'd been a cat. The binding spell and physical contact seemed to be helping him, at least a little bit.

 _I'm here for you, Spooky,_ she thought. Her gaze shifted to the girl sitting on the floor in front of them, happily munching from her own bag of popcorn. _I'm here for both of you._

She felt a little guilty about it, but she was glad Willow hadn't been able to join them. She loved her girlfriend and enjoyed being around her, but Spike and Dawn were her family and right now, they needed her attention. She wished she could just tell Willow and the others about all that had happened, but Spike was worried about what they might do if they found out.

Tara had to admit his fears there were valid. Xander was always trying to find an excuse to stake him, and Willow… well, Willow had been relying more and more on magic lately. She could easily see the beautiful redhead trying to somehow erase their memories of the dream world.

Yes, Spike and Dawn were feeling raw and wounded right now, but time and emotional support were what they needed to start the healing process, not mind-altering magic. Once they had gotten used to the memories of the waking world again, she knew they'd both be in a better place emotionally than they had been before the dream.

Tara had some of her own adjustments to make. While the memories of being with Willow were more immediate, it still felt a little odd at first each time she got into bed with her. For the most part, in the dream, she had only shared her bed with another person three nights of the week, and that person had been male and technically dead. Cuddling a warm, living, curvy female body felt both familiar and strange at the same time.

She shook her head slightly to clear it and focused on the movie again. She'd get herself and her family through this transition period, and they'd all be the stronger for it.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

The next day, Dawn ambled down the stairs at the totally reasonable hour of five past noon, given that it was a Saturday. She was still sleepy enough that she didn't notice the absence of any adults or the note and package on the kitchen island until after she'd fixed herself a sandwich.

The note was from Tara, letting Dawn know that she had been called in to work a shift at the bookstore, Willow was doing some more tutoring, and that Spike had stayed over and was in the basement if she needed anything. It also explained that the package had come in the mail for her.

She frowned slightly as she picked up the package and looked it over. Instead of a return address, the upper corner simply said "Grandmummy."

 _Ookay, so, apparently one of my grandmas has been watching Masterpiece Theatre, or something,_ she thought dubiously. Not that there was anything wrong with that. One version of her had grown up watching all kinds of British stuff, after all. It just seemed very strange that one of her grandmothers would send her package signed like that so soon after the dream world experience.

She shrugged and opened the package, any lingering unease swept away by curiosity. Inside was an elegant silver pen and a black, leather bound notebook. The words _Dawn's Fairytale_ had been engraved in silver on the cover.

The instant she touched the pen, there was a spark, like she'd been zapped by static electricity, and the thin wall last night had built around her grief was gone. _Mommy, Buffy,_ she thought, holding back a sob. She needed to… needed to….

She grabbed the notebook and opened it, setting pen to paper in a weird, trancelike frenzy as she began to write.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Willow walked into the house, wondering if she could get away with making guilt cookies without actually telling anyone what she felt guilty about. _This is for the best,_ she reminded herself. Using her magic on the bookstore owner to get Tara called in was ultimately for a good cause and not something she should feel guilty about. The same was true of lying again about where she'd been.

She'd have to tweak a few things, but she was pretty sure the spell she had found would work for her needs. She'd be able to reset Dawn and Tara to how they were last week, before the weirdness had set in.

"Hey, Dawnie," she called out in greeting. The girl was sitting at the kitchen island, an untouched sandwich sitting there as she wrote furiously in a strange book. Willow forced back a wave of irritation and hurt when Dawn's only response was a distracted grunt.

 _It's for the best anyway,_ she thought grumpily as she made her way upstairs with her purchases from The Magic Box. _I won't have to explain why I bought all this stuff._

She set up quickly and began her spell. Some of the ingredients had to steep while she chanted over them, so it would take a few hours. Then, everything would be the way it was supposed to be.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

… _. While the heads of the warring factions of the Minotaur Dogs bickered over who had the right to kiss the princess awake, the prince of the catkin gathered her in his arms. He knew she didn't love him and probably never would, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was her._

 _He kissed her, breaking the spell and bringing the princess back to herself. Her eyes opened and she gazed at him, an emotion he'd never thought to see directed at him shining from their green depths._

 _The squeal of delight from the princess's sister chased away the Minodogs, leaving nothing to distract the prince and princess as they held each other close. From that day on, the two lived happily ever after with the younger princess and the faithful unicorn centaur who had helped take care of her._

The silver pen dropped from Dawn's cramped, shaking hand. She felt numb… emptied out and hollow… and her hand throbbed with pain from the hours of non-stop writing. She sat there for almost another hour, just staring blankly at her hand.

Then Willow's spell was finished and more of the magic in the pen was activated. It sucked in the power from Willow's working and used it to activate one last spell. At that moment, several people from Sunnydale and beyond were sucked into Dawn's story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Author's Note:** Some dialogue is used from the episode The Gift.

 **…**

" _I don't smell a soul anywhere on you. Why do you even care?" the little demon asked._

" _I made a promise to a lady," he replied. It was a promise he was going to keep, no matter what._

" _Oh?"_

 _Doc's tongue shot out towards him, but he was ready for it. He grabbed it, yanked with all his strength, and whirled around before letting go and flinging Doc away from the tower. The pest out of the way, he hurried to Dawn and quickly untied her._

" _There we go, safe as houses now, Bit," he said with a smile as the girl wrapped her arms around him and sobbed against his chest._

" _Dawn!"_

 _He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the sound of Buffy's voice. She had a wild look to her and she was flushed from the fight against Glory. She was beautiful._

" _Don't worry, Slayer, I've got her. She's safe. Never gonna let anyone hurt her."_

 _His grip tightened slightly on Dawn, whose hair had gone from straight to curly at some point during his declaration. She was_ his _, and he'd always keep her safe._

 _Buffy ran the short distance to them, flinging her arms around them both instead of just pulling Dawn away for a hug._

" _Oh, Dawnie, thank god you're okay," she sobbed. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I knew I could count on you, Spike."_

 _He swallowed hard past a sudden lump in his throat at those beautiful, beautiful words. There were only three others strung together that he longed to hear from her more, but he knew she wasn't ready yet. Someday, though…._

 _But for now, they'd take their girl home, where Tara would be waiting for them. And when night came around again, they'd patrol together for the Sunnydale city council, just him and the slayer, knowing their girls were safe and -_

 _His thoughts were cut off as Buffy suddenly kissed him. It was intense and wonderful, and he could feel his heart racing in his-_

Spike snapped awake, disoriented and confused. That was washed away by sheer panic as he realized he was sprawled – fully clothed and even wearing his coat despite the fact that he'd been asleep just a moment ago in a pair of sweatpants – outside in a bright patch of sunlight. He scrambled to his feet, losing his balance in his haste. A weirdly feline yowl burst out of him as he fell backwards and landed hard on his… tail?

He stared stupidly between his legs at the long, black-furred appendage for a moment. Okay, so, clearly he wasn't bursting into flames despite being in the sun. He could feel the disturbing thud of a working heart in his chest, he was pretty sure the habitual breathing he had always engaged in was now actually necessary, and he had a tail. And his head felt weird. He frowned and slowly reached up, his fingers encountering what felt like a person-sized version of a cat ear.

He sighed and took stock of himself. He seemed to be his normal, soulless, demony self – complete with enhanced senses, thankfully – just with a body that was inexplicably alive, no longer reacted to sunlight by bursting into flame, and was in possession of cat ears and a tail. Those seemed to be the only cat bits, much to his relief. He wasn't judgmental when it came to other people's kinks, but that didn't mean he particularly wanted to be a furry's wet dream.

He got to his feet to take the uncomfortable pressure off his newly acquired tail and started pacing, crossing his arms over his chest and running his hands up and down his upper arms. Now that he was awake and had gotten himself all sorted, he could feel _it_ trying to rise up. The wave of depression that had been trying to crush him ever since he'd come back from the dream world.

 _Come on, now, mate, no time for this poncy rubbish,_ he thought with a silent snarl at his own weakness as he ran a hand roughly through his hair, tugging at it. The slight sting helped him focus a little. _Right then, need to figure out where I am and how to get…._

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to force back tears. _Home._ God, he just wanted to go home. Not to the crypt, that wasn't home anymore. Home was 1630 Revello Drive in a world that hadn't ever really existed.

Home was a place where he'd openly had a daughter and a… a _Tara_. He couldn't really think of any words that truly defined his relationship with the gentle witch. The term non-romantic life partner floated in his head briefly, but he refused to let it stay there, lest he have to give up his punk look for slacks, loafers, and a pink sweater vest.

Home had been a place where he was wanted, had a fun job that paid more than enough to keep his girls and himself taken care of, and hadn't killed humans because he had _chosen_ not to. And there had been the wonderful, glorious fuzzing. A gentle blanket of softness thrown over the memories of every single time he'd been dry fucked by the enormous dick that was sod's law since he'd first set foot in Sunnydale.

When he'd woken up, it had all come unfuzzed and had crashed down on him. The injuries that had left him paralyzed and at the mercy of a newly soulless Angelus, being cast aside like rubbish by Drusilla, the Initiative experimenting on him and making him weak and helpless against whatever any human chose to do to him, Buffy dying because he'd failed her.

It all felt like it had happened at the same instant, less than a week ago. If he could just get a few days without something going all wonky – admittedly not bloody likely on the Hellmouth – he'd at least be able to work through the first two. The whole mess with Angelus, the truce, and Dru leaving him had happened a few years ago.

Before the dream, he'd mostly gotten over it, to the point where he didn't have nightmares about that time with Angelus any more than he did the other time he'd lived with the wanker. And while part of him still loved Drusilla and always would, that pain had faded to a dull ache.

As for the last two … well, he'd still been in the copious amounts of alcohol phase of dealing with the chip-induced helplessness and his slayer's death. That should be easy enough to pick back up. It was possible it could even help with the fact that he'd gone from the closest a demon like him could hope to get to heaven to what was pretty much hell.

Except… getting utterly pissed was about forgetting things. He didn't want to forget. The memories of being part of Dawn growing up, the even closer relationship he had with her now, whatever it was he had with Tara. He couldn't give that up, even if it meant existing in his own version of hell. A hell that would only get worse once Dawn and Tara figured out he wasn't worth it and left him all alone. Just... like he was right now.

He didn't do well by himself, even in the best of circumstances. He was whinging about in a clearing as an apparently living catperson thing instead of a properly undead vampire, so circumstances were not exactly ideal. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming on.

Then a familiar scream pierced the air, and he was suddenly able to force it all back, shove it down and deep within his psyche where it belonged instead of turning him into a pathetic nancy boy. All that mattered right now was that his nibblet needed him.

 **…**

* * *

 **...  
**

Dawn stumbled and nearly fell as she went from sitting at the kitchen island to running along a road that cut through a forest. She stopped, her arms windmilling and her tail sticking straight out to help keep her balance.

 _What the…?_ She looked back in dismay at the dark-furred tail, then reached up to touch her ears, already knowing what she'd find. _Oh, jeez, I'm in my story._

Okay, she could handle this. She was alone on the road, so that meant she was at the beginning of things, with monsters right behind her and Tara a bit behind them. And Spike would be close enough to hear her when she….

Dawn screamed as hairy, pig-faced humanoids burst through the trees. Some of the fighting advice Spike had given her ran through her head. Make as much noise as possible if help was nearby, keep moving, fight dirty.

"Sod off, you wankers," she yelled, her accent slipping into the British/SoCal hybrid she'd ended up with in the dream world.

She grabbed up a handful of road dust and flung it at the eyes of the nearest monster. She kept moving, weaving around and between the creatures. If she'd truly been alone, she would have darted into the woods, but she knew Spike would be coming for her soon. If he was just the story version, it'd be following the plot. If the real Spike had been dragged in with her, he would still react to her scream by getting to her as fast as he could. As if on cue, Spike stumbled out of the woods, panting heavily.

"Stupid… bloody… living body," he wheezed.

He gave himself only a second to catch his breath before lunging towards the nearest monster… and turning into a very confused-looking Siamese cat. If his comment hadn't been enough, the confused look definitely told Dawn this was her Spike and not just a story version.

He didn't let turning into a housecat when he'd instinctively tried vamping out stop him for long. He pounced on his original target, biting at its face and raking his back feet against its throat. As it fell, bleeding heavily from its torn open neck, he launched himself at the next monster, switching back to human form as he hit. They went down together, Spike easily snapping its neck before bouncing up to his feet and going after another one of the things.

Dawn kept moving the entire time, throwing handfuls of dust and rocks as she watched him fight. He was reckless and wild, and, even though she knew he could take these things out easily, she felt anxiety eating away at her until he'd defeated them all.

She ran at him then, actually making him stagger back a few steps as she flung her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. Her mom and sister were dead. She couldn't handle losing her dad too.

She hadn't wanted anything to do with Hank Summers. He had essentially abandoned her and Buffy, and the thought of living with Willow and Tara and even the Bot had been better than going to live with him. His idea of parenting had been to just sort of _be_ there every once in a while and take her shopping.

She had memories of Spike raising her. He had taken care of her, played with her, read or told her stories, and had listened to her childish exploits as if they were vitally important. Losing him would shatter her world just as much as her mom's death had.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks and soaking into his shirt.

"I'm not gonna leave, Bit," he said quietly, wrapping one arm around her and petting her hair with his free hand. "I'm always gonna be here for you. Promise."

The heartbeat she could hear with her sensitive cat ears and the warmth she could feel through the thin material of his shirt was weird and a little unsettling, but he was still Spike, still her dad. She still felt safe and loved in his arms. She didn't need to fear monsters, because _her_ monster was way more badass and would protect her until the end of the world.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, hugging him tighter. She knew she wasn't supposed to get used to calling him that or dad in the waking world, but she needed to say it. Needed that feeling of connection, of blood family.

"Love you, too, Nibblet."

They stood like that in silence for a few more seconds before Spike gently flicked one of her ears. "Turning into a pussy will be a handy trick next time we run into beasties. You can find a safe little hole."

"I can't do it. I'm only part catkin," Dawn grumped. _If I'd known I was going to end up in the story, I totally would have made it so I could change._

Spike pushed her away just enough to look at her, one brow raised in inquiry. "You know what this is all about, then?"

Before she could start to explain – and boy was she dreading the part where she had to tell him that if he was here, it meant Angel and Riley might be too. _Maybe I'll get lucky and the spell didn't grab anyone from beyond Sunnydale._ – there was crashing in the woods. He immediately turned in that direction, tugging her behind him for safety.

Normally she didn't like people trying to keep her safe all the time, but it was different with Spike. The promise to protect her had been the only thing between him and a dusty end right after Buffy's death. She wasn't going to yell at him for it, especially with the connection between them now. A parent was _supposed_ to do whatever they could to stand between their child and danger.

The fighting tension suddenly drained out of him as he sniffed the air. "What? That's…Tara?"

He sounded confused as he said Tara's name, and Dawn was pretty sure why. Considering what she'd written her as, her scent had to be kind of weird. She sniffed experimentally, but couldn't really make much sense of what she smelled.

Then Tara stepped through the trees into the clear area around the road, and Dawn, even though she'd had an idea of how she would look, could only stare in awe.

 **…**

* * *

 **...  
**

 _Huh… well that explains the difference in her scent,_ Spike thought inanely as he stared at Tara in stunned disbelief.

Her torso, covered in a loose silvery-blue blouse, melded at the waist into a body that resembled a silver-dappled white deer, complete with cloven hooves. The tail looked like a lion's and a silver spiral horn sprouted from the center of her forehead. A sense of peace radiated from her, even though she had to be as confused about all this as he was.

 _Bit seems to know what's going on, though,_ he thought as she darted from behind him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her as she went to hug Tara.

"You alright, pet?" he asked as she slipped one arm around Dawn and grabbed his free hand with hers.

All of the physical contact from her in the waking world still seemed a little strange. He'd always been a fairly tactile person, especially after all of his senses – including touch – had been heightened by becoming a vampire, but for the past few years he'd gotten used to being treated like he was hideous and diseased. Despite all the time in the dream world, part of him kept expecting her to wipe her hands off on something as if they were covered in slime and filth.

He grinned suddenly as he remembered a time in the dream when she'd done exactly that. He'd come home early after a particularly messy patrol and actually _had_ been covered in slime. Her reaction had been pretty funny, as had four-year-old Dawn's squeal of mock horror when he'd pounced on her. Tara had gotten back at him by insisting she and Dawn were going to shower first, leaving him coated in demon ooze until she deemed them sufficiently clean.

 _At least she was nice enough to use her magic to clean my coat for me,_ he thought fondly.

The Tara of the here and now was looking at him curiously as she answered his question, probably wondering where his thoughts had wandered off to.

"I was pretty disoriented when I went from walking home from the bookstore to running through the woods as some kind of unicorn centaur, but I'm alright. What about you two?"

This time, the curious look was definitely because he and Dawn had cat bits, and he was standing about in direct sunlight. She squeezed his hand slightly, indicating she'd also noticed he had a normal human temperature.

"Right as rain, love, the both of us. Nibblet seems to have an idea about what's going on, though. Called herself half catkin, which is apparently what manner of beastie I am now."

Dawn bit her lip as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "I kind of know what's going on, but I should maybe wait to say anything. If you two got pulled in, then the others probably did too. Xander and Anya have a cabin near here, and Giles and Willow are at the castle. It's not too far either."

Spike studied her through narrowed eyes for a moment. There was something evasive in her tone as she mentioned who else was likely here. _Nothing to be done about it now. She'll come clean in time._

"Always best to just explain things once," he said, nodding in understanding. "Otherwise you risk losing track of what all you've said."

He was both annoyed and relieved that the Scoobies were apparently there with them. When it was just him and his girls – especially without the scent of Willow there to break the illusion – he could pretend they were still in the dream. On the other hand, having Giles about meant he didn't have to try to figure this all out. The tweedy watcher could take charge, leaving him free to distract himself with snarky comments and hitting things when necessary.

"Right then, let's fetch Harris and his bird first, then head to this castle. Lead the way, Nibblet."

Dawn headed off down the road, her hand still wrapped around his. Tara still had ahold of the other one. He knew, as the only one with any real fighting experience, he should have at least one hand free, but neither of them seemed inclined to let go, and he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

 _Bit has abandonment issues. Can't pull away from her. And if we do come across more nasties, it'd be easier for Tara to cast a barrier spell if she can take energy from me. That's best done through physical contact._ Satisfied with his perfectly true excuses, he followed his daughter along the road.

 **…**

* * *

 **...  
**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Buffy asked dubiously as she looked at the door to the seer's room.

Despite being currently outside of time, she had no memories of this to draw on, and she knew the woman behind the door was dangerous. Willingly letting her – heck, deliberately _asking_ her to – put her under thrall was just crazy.

She shivered and rubbed her arms for comfort. She didn't like this place. It was bright and harsh here. Not as bad as she knew the real world would be when she got brought back to life, but it had been a shock to suddenly find herself here instead of heaven.

A warm hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "It's alright, dear, I'll keep watch the entire time," her mom promised. "This is the only way to make sure you don't accidentally give away too much."

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. She needed to do this. If any of them realized she had gone to heaven, Willow wouldn't resurrect her. As much as she wanted to stay there, where she was warm and loved and _finished_ , she knew she couldn't. She was needed. And if she played her cards right, when she died for the final time, she'd go back to heaven and be able to take her vampire with her.

For now, she needed to take her mother's advice and convince the seer to hypnotize her into temporarily forgetting everything from after she'd jumped from Glory's tower. Before she could knock, Drusilla opened the door and beckoned her inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Author's Note:** The words to the guiding spell Willow uses are from the episode "Fear, Itself." Allusions to my fic "By Moonlight Held" are made, but it doesn't need to be read to make sense of things.

 **…**

 _This is not my fault,_ had been Willow's first thought upon finding herself and Giles in some kind of magical workroom, both of them somehow turned into elves. And it wasn't. It couldn't have been. She knew she didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to her magic working the way she'd intended, but there was no way her spell to fix Tara and Dawn could have teleported and transformed her. And even if it could have, there was no way it could have done the same to Giles.

Now she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at the results of her latest spell. The two dots on the parchment that were her and Giles were stationary, as were the Xander and Anya dots. The ones representing Tara, Dawn, and Spike were together and heading towards Xander and Anya.

"It would appear that the others are here as well, wherever here may be," Giles commented as he looked down at the spell results.

"Yeah. I should be able to do a guiding spell to lead us to Xander. The last time I tried this one, it… uh… it didn't exactly go so well, but there were extenuating circumstances," Willow said with a nervous grin. Giles frowned and opened his mouth, but she quickly started the chant before he could say anything. "Aradia, Goddess of the lost, the path is murky, the woods are dense, the darkness pervades, I beseech thee, bring the light."

A speck of green light floated in front of her, and a huge, triumphant smile spread across her face. "Okay, little light of mine, take us to Xander."

She desperately wanted to go to Tara, but Xander made more sense in this situation. _I'll see you soon, baby,_ she thought, picturing it in her head. Tara would be in her arms, snuggled against her as she peered shyly at Willow's friends. Dawn would bounce over and hug them both, gushing the entire time about how cool it was that she had found them with magic.

They'd both be back to normal, and she'd figure out what Spike had done to them so she could keep him from doing it again. She felt bad for him, she really did, but Tara had been right. You couldn't just magic away grief. He'd have to figure out a way to deal with the loss of Buffy without twisting people all up into what he wanted them to be. He couldn't do things like turn her sweet, gentle Tara into some kind of…of sick dominatrix who would bind someone up and keep them like a pet.

She forced back a shudder so she wouldn't alarm Giles and started off after the little green light, the watcher at her side. They walked through several hallways of the castle they'd found themselves in, turning a corner just in time to miss being seen by Buffy and Joyce as they turned from the other end to knock at the seer's door.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Buffy blinked in surprise at the sight of Drusilla as the woman beckoned her into the room. She wasn't surprised to see her – she'd known full well who the seer was, even if her out-of-timeness didn't include memories of this fairytale visit – but she was surprised by the white kitty cat ears and tail.

She cautiously followed her into the room. The madwoman seemed to glide across the floor, her body swaying to music only she could hear. If she'd been alive, she would have demanded that Dru start talking, but being dead had given her patience. That patience was rewarded when the seer began to speak.

"The red witch wants control. Everything neatly labeled and put in a box." She twirled and grabbed randomly at the air, as if plucking invisible objects to put into an equally invisible container. "My pretty kitty confounds her. He darts hither and yon, chasing deadly sunbeams like a mad thing."

She suddenly pointed her finger to Buffy's right and shook it admonishingly. "You can't put poetry into a box." Her eyes took on an even more distant look, as if she was gazing into the past. "Li'l boys with daisies and sweetness in their hearts don't belong in the ground. They don't like it when the walls close in and there is no air to breathe."

"I know," Buffy said quietly. She didn't know what the daisy comment was about, but she knew she and Spike would have some shared phobias after Willow brought her back to life. The thought of Willow reminded her of what Dru had first said. "Willow did this?"

Drusilla giggled, bouncing on her toes and clapping like an excited child on Christmas. "I'm a grandmummy." She started twirling again, then moved in close to Buffy and put a finger over her own lips. "Shh, 'tis a secret."

She danced away, casting sly looks at the doorway where Joyce waited. "I sent your li'l girl a pretty prezzie, I did. The framework is hers, but the tale…." She flashed a sudden predatory grin. "The tale is mine."

"So you did this," Buffy said slowly, trying to understand what was going on.

Dru whirled back to her. "The red witch cast a nasty spell to take what the white witch and the green fairy gained. She would have hurt my pretty boy." She hissed suddenly and lashed her tail, her eyes filled with a mad rage. "That is _my_ job."

"And mine." Buffy's voice was tinged with a soft sorrow as she thought of what she'd done and would do. She'd make it right. She'd already set things in motion to make it right.

 _I'm going to be the biggest bitch of bitch town and turn into an abuser, but here, until I'm alive again and then manage to get my head out of my ass, have a daughter I'm going to force to stay away from you and a Tara to cuddle._ She couldn't feel disgust with herself, though part of her wanted to. Heaven was about peace and forgiveness, even of yourself. Even of things you hadn't done yet.

"And yours." There was gentleness and a sudden lucidity in the seer's eyes. "I gave my bad doggie to you, and you turned him into a kitty long before your sister did. More independent, but still a pet. Do you know what to do with pets?"

Buffy swallowed hard, remembering a conversation that hadn't happened yet.

" _Even if you forget about the whole evil, soulless vampire thing, he still can't be the normal relationship I want for you."_

" _That you want for me?" she would repeat incredulously, enraged that he still thought he had a say in her life. "Look here, mist-"_

" _He's a pet!" he would yell, interrupting her. "It's what Dru made…." He'd take a deep breath at that point and run a hand through his hair. "It's what Dru and Ang… and_ I _made him. She needed a service dog, and after she turned him and brought him to me, I helped her make one. You can't have a real relationship with a pet."_

" _So, because you screwed Dru up and then helped her screw Spike up, he doesn't deserve to be loved?" Her eyes would narrow as the urge to punch him became irresistible._

"You pet them, and you love them," she answered quietly, pulling herself from memories of the future. "You take care of them, and if you really do love them, you let them take care of you."

Drusilla smiled at her answer… and then the lucid moment was gone. She swayed and twirled, humming a tune that didn't match her movements.

"The stars whisper with pixie voices. Pss, pss, pss. Pss, pss, pss." She held out a hand, moving her thumb against her fingers in an imitation of talking. "The future and the past swirl about inside your head. Are there pretty birdies in there? Do they sing for seeds?"

"Drusilla, dear," Joyce said, finally entering the room. "You know why we're here."

"Yesss. Block out the future, quiet the birdies. Mustn't let the red witch know where Sunshine has been. Tis another secret, it is." She brought her finger up in another shushing motion. She twirled over the Buffy and hovered her hand near the slayer's right temple. "Hide the light away. Hide the memories. I can do that."

"Will you?" Joyce asked. "Who are you right now, Drusilla?"

Dru smiled and clapped in delight as if the woman had asked something clever. "Daddy's li'l girl likes to rip and tear. Slash and maim. Burn and destroy." She looked back at Buffy and snapped her teeth inches from her face before turning her gaze back to Joyce. "Mummy uses soft ropes, gentle chains. Binds the daisy boy like a dolly. Sings and pets his hair."

She smiled again, gentle and creepy at the same time. "I'm a mummy. The boy needs a sweet bedtime story. But it will make him bleed." She sighed dreamily. "My li'l Spike. So pretty when he bleeds."

Buffy drew in a shaky breath. She didn't like the idea of that, but there wasn't really anything she could do about it. From the sound of it, Dawn had somehow set up the framework for this place, but Dru was calling the shots. Right now, she seemed to be thinking of herself as Spike's sire rather than Angelus's creation. As long as she stayed that way, she could sort of be trusted to help.

 _Especially with Mom right here to keep an eye on her. Okay, Buffy, you can do this._

"Dru, please, I need you to block my memories of everything that happened after I jumped off of Glory's tower."

Instead of answering, Drusilla smiled again and lifted her hand, two fingers held out as if she'd try to poke Buffy's eyes out. She slowly began to sway.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Being a unicorn centaur was really weird. Tara had kind of gotten the hang of having cloven hooves and essentially having two bodies smooshed together. She'd lived on the Hellmouth for over fourteen years if you counted both the waking world and the dream, after all. One came to expect these things. No, the really weird thing was her sense of smell.

The forest smelled like a forest, only more so, while Dawn and Spike smelled absolutely amazing. Especially Spike. Another weird thing was the incredible urge she had to cuddle them. Again, especially Spike. She cuddled with Spike all the time, and she and Dawn were always hugging these days, but this was different. She was actually having to fight to just hold onto his hand instead of pulling him close to nuzzle and sniff.

Did either unicorns or centaurs have some kind of obsession with cats she didn't know about? _I know unicorns are supposed to have a thing about virgins – especially of the opposite gender – but that can't be it. Well, I guess it sort of explains Dawn, but not Spike._

She was pulled from her thoughts by their arrival at Xander and Anya's cottage. Spike immediately tugged his hands free from her and Dawn and took a step back, still obviously intent on keeping things secret from the others.

"Spooky…" She reached out for him, but before she could touch him, Dawn was banging on the door and yelling.

"Hey, you guys decent in there?"

"Just… oh, God, Anya, Dawn's right out… ugnh… J-Just a minute, Dawnster!"

Tara could feel her cheeks heating as she blushed. _That's Xander and Anya for you,_ she thought wryly. _In a strange world with possibly strange bodies, and the first thing they do is hump like bunnies._ She'd definitely keep that description to herself. There was no reason to frighten Anya.

After a muttered conversation about Xander not being able to find his pants because he didn't have any, the door was finally opened. Before Tara had a chance to process what she was seeing, she was almost staggered back by the awful, sour stench emanating from the two of them. Xander took a step towards her, and she backed away, her skin tingling with an unpleasant crawling sensation, like there were ants just underneath. It was horrible. She had to get away. Had to –

"Tara, love?"

The soft brush of a hand against her cheek – the touch familiar even if the body temperature was wrong – calmed the awful feeling. She still felt a little itchy and twitchy, but it was fading. She nuzzled her face against Spike's palm, moving her nose close to his wrist before breathing in deeply. A sort of earthy scent mixed in with leather and cigarettes and a hint of honey and pomegranates, all overlaid with a stronger version of the sweet smell that overlaid Dawn as well. It felt connected, somehow, to the sour stink coming from Xander and Anya.

"Tara, you okay?" Xander asked, frowning in concern. He stared at Spike's hand on her face for a few seconds, then jerked slightly, as if he'd just remembered something. "Hey, evil undead, get your feelers off of … wait a minute, why aren't you dust? And what's with the cat parts?"

Spike snorted and a raised a brow. "You're one to talk about animal parts, being a loincloth wearing goat boy and all," he pointed out.

Tara blinked, finally noticing what Xander and Anya had become. He was a faun while she was quite clearly a nymph, with bark-brown skin and green, leafy hair.

"As for the non-dustiness, I'm not actually undead or even technically a vampire at the mo'. Still evil though," Spike was quick to point out. "The whole being alive thing apparently negates the sunlight allergy."

He started to move his hand away from Tara's face, but she put her own hand over his, holding it in place.

"Tara-"

Whatever Xander had been about to say was cut off by Anya's heavy sigh. "Really, Xander, you complain about my lack of human manners, and then you leave them standing around in front of the door. Either slam it in their faces so we can go back to playing with your penis or let them in."

"Ahn!" Xander turned bright red, but he did move out of the doorway. "Come on in," he muttered.

Dawn immediately went inside, but Tara stayed put, keeping Spike outside with her. Anya had moved far from the door, but Xander, while not in the way anymore, was still too close. _What's wrong with me?_ she wondered miserably.

Anya sighed again and started pulling Xander deeper into the cottage. "She can't come in with you that close. Even clinging to a virgin isn't going to keep it from hurting her if she accidentally brushes against you."

Xander's confused "huh?" came at the same time as Spike's irritated insistence that he'd taken care of all of Dru's needs "right and proper" and was most definitely _not_ a virgin.

"I did a really interesting piece of vengeance not long before ending up in Sunnydale," Anya said, beckoning them in once she'd gotten her boyfriend far enough away for Tara to enter. She did so, her hand now hanging by her side but still firmly gripping Spike's.

"I turned this guy into a wereunicorn," Anya continued. "The whole virgins only thing stayed as a residual effect even in human form, like Willow's ex having enhanced senses even when he wasn't all hairy. He could only have sex with vampires like his girlfriend who died without ever having sex, since dead people can't technically lose their virginity."

The ex-demon turned nymph looked intently at Spike after Tara had dragged him to the farthest wall from the door. "You're a reasonably attractive man, so I assume you can touch Tara due to social ineptitude."

Tara glanced at Spike, expecting one of those little flinches that usually came with the nastier comments made by the Scoobies. This time, though – probably because it had been Anya, who said things out of blunt honesty rather than cruelty – he just smirked.

"Or it could be I never found a bird who could rightly handle all this sheer manliness." He hooked the thumb of his free hand through a belt loop and twitched his hips suggestively.

"Eww," Dawn said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Can we please talk about something else? It was bad enough hearing Anya going on about Xander's penis. I don't wanna hear about my da-" She faked a cough to cover her slip up. "About Spike's sex life."

"I second that," Xander said with a shudder.

"I believe that is something we can all definitely agree upon," an accented voice said from the still open doorway.

Tara looked towards Giles, sudden warmth and happiness suffusing her at the sight of her girlfriend darting past the man, a huge smile on her pixie-ish face as she headed right towards her. She took a step in Willow's direction, but was stopped by the fact that she was still clutching Spike's hand, and he was refusing to budge.

"You sure that's a good idea, pet?" he asked quietly, reminding her of the situation.

Her eyes widened in dismay, her heart sinking as she realized that she wouldn't be able to touch her lover. Before she could start to explain, the horrible sour stench was overwhelming her, and then Willow's arms were around her, sending shocks of terrible, itchy, burning pain through her entire body.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Willow wrung her hands anxiously and fought the urge to move closer to Tara. She wanted so badly to take her in her arms and soothe the pain away, but she couldn't. She was the source of the pain. All she could do was watch helplessly while _Spike_ comforted _her_ girlfriend.

Tara was huddled against the wall, all four legs tucked under her and the human part of her cuddled up to Spike like she wanted to crawl inside him and wear him like a sweater. The apparently not-currently-a-vampire was stroking her hair and murmuring calming words too softly for Willow to clearly make out. Dawn was crouched beside Tara, petting the fur of her deer-like body.

 _This is so wrong. I have to fix this somehow. There has to be a way. Maybe… maybe I can figure out a spell. Spike's alive right now, so maybe I can do something so the unicorn magic will think what he did while dead counts. Then he wouldn't be able to touch my girl._

Willow felt a little bit sick as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. She had been planning to make it so yet another person would be able to cause her sweetheart pain and distress. What she needed to do was find a way to trick the magic into thinking they were all virgins. _Maybe if I got some hair from Spike and Dawn, and I could-_ Her thoughts were interrupted by Dawn.

"I'm so sorry," the teenager sniffled. "I don't really remember everything I wrote, but I know I didn't put this in the story. I'd never do something that would hurt you like this, Tara."

"What did you do?" Willow demanded, suddenly angry.

Dawn must have caused this by trying some kind of spell. How could she? Okay, yeah, a lot of Willow's spells had gone wrong and caused pain to her friends, but _her_ spells were always meant to help. What was playing around in some kind of fairytale world supposed to accomplish?

"Watch your tone, Red," Spike snapped, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. "Considering the messes you've made with your spells, your glass house is a mite too fragile to be flinging stones about."

"My spells? You're going to bring up _my_ spells after what you did to Tara and Dawn? I don't know how you did it, but I fixed them right before we all ended up here."

The little bit of color being alive had granted him abruptly drained from Spike's face, and a look of horrified panic filled his eyes. In an instant, it was Tara who was comforting him instead of the other way around.

"It's alright," the blonde said softly, pulling out of his arms so she could wrap hers around him. His wrists were suddenly pressed together, and Willow shuddered with revulsion as she realized Tara had used a binding spell on him. A binding spell she apparently had gotten so good at that she didn't even need words or gestures to cast it. "Whatever she tried didn't work. We still remember everything. You're still my Spooky."

"What did you do?" Dawn asked, glaring at Willow as she repeated the redhead's own words through clenched teeth.

 _Tara's right. It didn't work,_ Willow thought with a sinking feeling. Dawn looked almost disgusted with her, and Tara – who was supposed to be her shy, nervous sweetie again – was glaring with just as much anger as the teenager.

"I... I just… you were acting so different. And when I used a spell to watch the three of you together- "

"You spied on us?" Tara got to her feet and took a step towards her, apparently angry enough to endure being closer to a non-virgin.

"Well, how else was I supposed to figure out what was wrong?" Willow asked defensively.

"Uh, Wills, you could have asked."

She turned towards Xander with bewildered hurt at his words. Why was everyone being so mean to her? She'd just been trying to make things _right_. "Y-you, too, Xand? You're my bestest, oldest friend. You're supposed to be on _my_ side."

"I'm _always_ on your side, Will," he said simply.

"Isn't that the truth," Anya muttered in irritation.

"Not now, Ahn." Xander's voice was dismissive, almost as if he hadn't really heard what she'd said. Willow felt a stab of smug satisfaction. "But, just because I'm on your side, it doesn't mean I think you're always right. What is it you tried to do? I think Tara and Dawn deserve to know."

"I was just trying to _fix_ them. I was going to…to sort of reset them. To how they were last Sunday, before they got all weird on Monday."

"Reset us? You wanted to reset our memories and feelings?" The anger and betrayal in Tara's voice was like a stake to Willow's heart. She almost wished she would burst into dust from it. "My god, Willow, how could you? No matter what, they would be sick and wrong. But with what Glory did to me…. You _know_ how I feel about that. How…how could you plan to _violate_ me and Dawn like that?"

"Violate you?" She reeled back as if she'd been slapped. "I wasn't… I would _never_ …. I thought you had been put under a spell! You're acting _different_ all confident and…"

She knew it was the wrong thing to say – that she wasn't expressing herself right – even before the look of revulsion appeared on Tara's face. She opened her mouth to try to _explain_ , but then Spike and Dawn were yelling at her, and Xander was yelling at them, telling to back off and give her a minute, and it was all so confusing and-

" _Enough!_ " Giles's shout quieted everyone, even Spike. "Willow, you have been resorting to magic much too often as of late, and rest assured, we _will_ be discussing this. Tara, Dawn, you both have every reason to be upset, but right now, we have to focus on the situation at hand.

"Now, Dawn, would you please tell us what happened?"

Dawn shot one more angry glare at Willow before turning her attention to Giles. "There was this package that came for me. I opened it up, and there was a pen and this leather notebook that said Dawn's Fairytale on it. I… I felt like I _had_ to write in it. I wrote a bunch of stuff, and I couldn't stop. My hand was all cramped up when I finally finished."

"I see," Giles murmured. "One or both of the objects must have been enchanted. "Did you happen to check who it was from?"

"Um… it just said it was from 'Grandmummy,' which I thought was kind of weird."

"Grandmummy?" Spike repeated sharply. "With a proper U and all?"

At Dawn's nod, Spike sagged against the wall with a muttered "bloody hell" and closed his eyes. "Drusilla."

"Okay, maybe I'm being a bit slow here," Xander said into the sudden silence, "but what does your loony bin ex have to do with anything?"

"She's not just my ex. She's my sire, and Dawn is…." He glanced hesitantly at Tara and Dawn. The former looked encouraging while the latter had a defiant expression.

"If they can't accept me if they know the truth, then I don't want anything to do with them," Dawn said firmly, shooting a glare across the cottage that included everyone that wasn't Spike or Tara.

Spike sighed. "Right, then. Okay, long story short, Nibblet started fading away, ate a chunk out of my arm, exploded, came back all poodley an' with me all mixed into her DNA, and then we got chucked into a dream world with Tara."

"Uh-huh… I think I speak for us all when I say a resounding and heartfelt 'huh?'," Xander commented.

Willow didn't know about Giles or Anya, but her sentiments definitely matched her best friend's. Dawn had some of Spike's DNA in her? They'd been in a dream world with Tara? What did any of that mean?

"I think they might need a little bit more of an explanation than that, Spooky," Tara said gently. "Do you want me to tell them?"

At Spike's sigh and muttered "go ahead", Tara began a more in-depth explanation of what had happened to the three of them.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

 _Fourteen years._ The thought kept circling through Xander's mind. _Fourteen years._ That was just… crazy. Dawn and Tara, trapped with Spike in a dream world for fourteen years. That must have been so….

Xander frowned. He'd been thinking it should have been traumatizing for the two former humans, but honestly, looking at the three of them, it was _Spike_ who seemed kind of traumatized. He had to admit, though, without Buffy there for him to follow around like a lovesick puppy, Spike was almost… tolerable, at least when he wasn't going crazy and licking people.

 _He kind of grows on you, I guess, like some kind of really disgusting fungus._ He wasn't actually a vampire at the moment, so it was okay to admit that. It wasn't betraying Jesse, like when they'd been hiding out from those knights and Xander had forgotten for a moment what Spike was.

Of course, Xander would have to be particularly nasty to Spike once he was back to being a vampire, but that was okay. _It's not like demons have real feelings like actual people,_ he thought, refusing to acknowledge all of the proof against that particular idea.

"Fascinating," Giles murmured in response to what Tara had told them. "Utterly fascinating. I would like to ask you some more questions once we've dealt with our current predicament."

"Our current predicament," Spike repeated from where he was sitting on the floor. Then, in a seemingly non-sequitur, "I talk up being evil and all – and make no mistake, I _am_ evil – but left to my own devices, it's more of a… well… byproduct than an actual goal. Dru though… she _likes_ evil. She seeks it out. And while the bit may have set the framework, it's Dru that's likely gonna be calling the shots here.

"If she stays _my_ Dru through all this – all childlike and whimsical – then we have a chance. If not…. I've done things you lot would consider horrible, and to me it's no worse than Harris eating his gummy bears from the back end first. That being said, some of the things Dru's done give _me_ nightmares. If she switches to _that_ Dru, we're all buggered."

Xander swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He really, really didn't want to think about what kind of things could be terrible enough to give Spike of all people nightmares. Then there was a knock at the door, yet another person came into his cottage, and Xander lost all ability to think.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Buffy chirped. She looked around at all of the stunned faces turned her way. "You all look like you've seen a ghost."


	4. Chapter 4

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Chapter Four**

 **…**

 _You all look like you've seen a ghost._ The words echoed through Dawn's mind as she stared at the doorway, feeling as if her world had been roughly turned upside down and shaken, like a snow globe in the hands of an unruly child. Buffy. It was really Buffy. It had to be. If it was just some fake created by the story, she would have been following the plot, not _here_. With them. With her.

"I guess that wasn't a very good joke, was it?" Buffy's smile faltered as the stunned silence continued. She nervously walked farther into the cottage, closing the door behind her. "Probably way, way too soon. I… I don't actually know. I mean, for me, I just jumped off that tower, you know? I was told that I… I died… a-and that it's been longer for you guys, but nobody… nobody actually-"

"Seventy-eight days and… uh… roughly five hours, as of when I last checked the time." The hoarse whisper was just loud enough to cut through Buffy's increasingly nervous and awkward babbling.

Buffy looked past Dawn to the source of the voice. Her eyes went wide and her expression changed to something Dawn didn't have a chance to identify before Willow, Xander, and Giles obscured her sister from view, crowding around her and talking all at once.

She wanted to join them, to push them and their loudness away from Buffy and hug her, but she couldn't seem to make her legs work. All she could do was stand there while slow tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Why couldn't she move? What was wrong with her?

A gentle shove and a murmured, "go on now, Bit," finally broke her from her paralysis. She darted forward, squeezing in between Xander and Giles and throwing her arms around Buffy as tightly as she could.

Giles was the first to back away, working to regain his dignity – Dawn had the inane thought that people were always going on about British reserve, but the only other British person she knew all that well was actually kind of huggy if given the chance. _I guess a naturally cuddly person is cuddly no matter their nationality_ – followed by Xander, who pulled Willow along with him to give them space.

"Buffy! Oh god, Buffy." Dawn rested her head on her sister's shoulder and sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault you had to jump."

Comforting hands were suddenly on her shoulders, and she was pushed away just enough for Buffy to look her in the eyes. "Hey, no, Dawnie, no. It wasn't your fault. The only one who deserves any blame is that nasty little demon."

"I-I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," Giles broke in gently, "but… uh… you, you said that someone _told_ you that you… uh… _died_? Who, who told you this?"

Dawn had to fight the urge to smack him. Couldn't he see they were having a moment? Well, okay, yeah, obviously, since he had apologized for interrupting, but still…

"It was Mom," Buffy said quietly, not taking her eyes off of her sister as she answered Giles's question.

Mom. Mommy. Her mother was here, and had told Buffy things a fake couldn't have. Even after seeing her sister, it hadn't occurred to her that the real version of her mom might have been pulled into the story too. She'd get to see her again. She'd get to hug her and tell her goodbye.

"She... she's at the castle, right? We have to go see her."

They had to go now. She'd have her mom and her dad and her sister and Tara all together. They'd be a family for the short amount of time the story would allow. She and Buffy would have stupid arguments about silly stuff while Tara looked on in amusement and tried to keep the peace. She'd be Mommy's little pumpkin belly and Daddy's nibblet, and she wouldn't have to deal with the creepy bot or worry about the state or Hank Summers trying to take her away. She started to turn towards the door, but Buffy's grip on her shoulders tightened just enough to hold her in place.

"We will, Dawn, I promise, but not yet. It's getting dark out, and I still need to find something."

Dawn forced back a disappointed sob. "What do you need to find?" She wanted to sound confident and adult, but she couldn't keep the trembling whine from her voice.

"Drusilla's at the castle, too. She told me where to find you guys. She said she has more information, but she won't spill unless I find her axe splitter thingy and bring it to her. Then she started meowing and turned into a reverse Siamese cat. It was weird."

"Axe splitter?" Xander repeated. "You split things _with_ the axe, not the axe itself. That's just crazy."

"She _is_ insane," Anya pointed out in a helpful tone of voice. "Crazy people do tend to be fond of crazy things. They come up with some of the best vengeance wishes."

"All I know is that Mom seemed to know what she was talking about," Buffy said with a shrug as she finally let go of Dawn. "She said it meant interpreter. So, something that can translate crazy seer into normal people speak and… um… splits axes."

"Axe splitter…." Giles frowned and took off his glasses, cleaning the lenses as he thought. "Might she possibly have said explicator? It…uh… means one who makes something clear. Or, or interprets, if you will."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess that makes more sense," Buffy said. She frowned suddenly and started looking around the cottage. "Speaking of all things Dru-ish, where'd her former boy toy wander off to? And Tara?"

"That was mean," Dawn muttered with a glare in response to the "boy toy" comment. She knew her sister and Spike had had some weird kind of flirtation-by-way-of-insult thing going on, but that had been kind of a low blow. It reduced what had been a serious, long-term relationship to some kind of flavor of the month type thing.

"Tara, baby?" Willow called out, suddenly realizing that her girlfriend was missing.

Dawn started feeling uneasy as she glanced around the cottage. It was a small place with a central living area with a couch, a combined dining room and kitchen, and a bedroom loft. There wasn't really anywhere that a unicorn centaur could hide. _Though with the way we were all focusing on Buffy, a whole herd of elephant centaurs could have come and gone without us noticing._

She glanced at the door and bit her lip. Either the big knot of non-virgins all in one place had been too much for Tara, or Spike hadn't been able to handle seeing Buffy, knowing that when the story ended, she wasn't just going to magically be alive again. Either way, one had left and the other had followed.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

 _The only one who deserves any blame is that nasty little demon._ He couldn't get the words out of his head as he walked through the woods. He knew bloody well that she had been talking about Doc, but he also knew he was just as much to blame. If he'd just been faster, or stronger, or smarter up there on the tower…. Hell, if he'd had the sodding brains to make sure the wanker was dead when Harris shoved the sword in him. Vampires were pretty low on the demon totem pole, why had he just assumed something that wouldn't even have killed him would have taken out the other demon?

Didn't matter, all the ways he could have succeeded. All that mattered was that he'd failed. His slayer was dead. She was there, back at the cottage, alive and well, but she was still dead. They'd find a way home, and she'd finish her fall, and she'd die.

Spike shuddered, remembering the change to her scent when she'd said she'd been told she had died. Fear and longing in equal measure. She'd been snatched from a moment in time when the death wish was deeply upon her and about to be fulfilled as she hurtled into the unknown.

He'd told her once that it would come, and that he would be there to give her death when it was time. _Oh god, why did I have to be right?_ She'd been ready to die. She'd wanted it. Didn't… didn't that mean, in a way, he'd done the right thing by failing her, giving her what she needed? _No! She could've gotten past it. She was just overwhelmed, is all. She could have… I didn't…_

Spike whimpered and dropped into a crouch, his hands pressed to the sides of his head. His slayer – his Buffy – so full of contradictions. How was he supposed to give her what she needed when those needs pulled in so many different directions? Death, life, to be strong, to have someone be strong for her, to give up, to keep going, to be normal, to be a superhero. Why couldn't the bloody bitch just want something easy, like a fancy cheese plate and a foot rub?

 _She wants death. I could give it to her now. Kill her here, and watch the horror, peace, and gratitude fill her eyes…._ He froze, barely breathing as the terrible thought fluttered through his mind. Could he do it?

 _She's the only one of the lot who actually seems to be human. The chip..._ Did the chip even work here? _Doesn't matter. Do it quick enough, and she'd be dead before it could fry my brain, maybe trigger hard enough to take me with her. Peace for both of us…._

No, no, no, no, _no_! He would _not_ kill Buffy. Not again. No matter how things turned out, if he tried, it would devastate Dawn. He couldn't do that to her. But if Buffy needed it…. He had to…. No, no, no. Shouldn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Would _not_ … Sudden dizziness slammed into him, his shallow, panting breaths not bringing in enough air for a body that actually needed it now. He closed his eyes and gasped in a lungful.

He crouched there for a few moments and just breathed, eyes still closed. Finally, though, the sound of a woman crying got through to him and he opened his eyes. There she was, sitting at the edge of the pond. Wait, pond? How in the buggering hell had he not noticed a pond? Granted, he'd been wandering about feeling right sorry for himself like a whinging poofter before succumbing to something disturbingly close to a mental breakdown, but still….

 _Doesn't matter,_ he thought, shaking his head. There was a pond he'd somehow missed and a young woman crying by the edge of it. He got to his feet and approached her, gracefully dropping down to kneel beside her once he was close enough. Wouldn't do to frighten the girl by looming over her.

"Hello there, love," he said softly as she turned her face to look at him. He tilted his head as he spoke so he could gaze up at her through his lashes. It was a look he knew somehow made him seem harmless, innocent, dangerous, and seductive all at the same time. "What's got you all in a bother, hmm?"

"I… he…." Her pretty little face crinkled up as fresh tears spilled from her big brown eyes. She seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. "He said… that he loved me… and that it would be okay if we… but then after we… he called me a whore and…."

"Filthy cad," Spike muttered, reaching up to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. "World's full of fellows like him, unfortunately. Have you considered death?"

"W-what?"

She stared at him, eyes wide. There should have been at least a touch of fear in her scent, but there wasn't. In fact, he couldn't smell her at all. Or even the pond. What was going on? Didn't matter. She was here, and she was hurting. He could make it go away.

"It's harsh here, for sweet little things like you. Tricked, used, and rejected. Soiled." She flinched at his words. "Heaven will still have you, you know. I can send you there."

She pulled away from him, and he let her. It wasn't time to crowd her just yet. "This world isn't good enough for you, pet. It's full of people who will mock you, and hurt you, and never really care about you, no matter how hard you try to please them. Death is calm and peaceful. I can show you. Give you just a little taste."

He leaned towards her, gazing fully into her hazel eyes. Hazel? Wait, hadn't they been brown just a moment ago? And when had her hair gone from chestnut to blonde?

"Spooky?"

A gentle hand on his shoulder, and suddenly the girl and the pond were gone. He looked behind him and up at Tara's concerned face, then back to where the girl had been. He suddenly realized why she'd seemed familiar. She had been the first. The first girl he'd found after Angelus had betrayed him by having sex with Dru.

The hurt from that betrayal had still been fresh, as had the physical pain from the fight and from Angelus proving he belonged to him just as much as Dru did. He'd coaxed her towards death, taking her to the brink once she asked him to, then pushing her over one tiny drop at a time as she cried and begged him to let it end. He hadn't really known what he was doing at that point, so she'd only lasted that one night.

 _Disconnect,_ he thought as he took in a shaky breath. As a human, he'd often lost himself in vivid daydreams – hell, he still did that sometimes as an over a century old vampire – but the flat out disconnects from reality hadn't started until after his death, when Angelus had begun trying to teach him his "art." They'd stopped after he'd killed his first slayer.

 _And it took fighting with myself over killing another one to bring them back. Brilliant. Just brilliant._ He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Okay, he just needed to get things sorted right now and… _No, I bloody well_ don't _need to get things sorted right now. If anyone deserves a soddin' vacation from themselves, it's me._

He shifted to cat form and was immediately scooped up in comforting arms and held against Tara's chest. He snuggled close and began to purr.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

"...part of a long line of warrior queens where the first born daughter gets super powers," Dawn was saying to Buffy as Tara opened the door and stepped back into the cottage. The sisters were sitting together on the couch, Willow on the floor at Buffy's feet, Giles leaning against the wall, and Xander and Anya in the kitchen cooking something. "So you're still pretty much all slayer-y. I was brought by a stork after a magical accident involving the blood of mom and the prince of the catkin."

"Tara!" Willow called out, surging to her feet and taking a few steps towards her before realizing she wasn't supposed to get too close.

She looked away from her girlfriend, unsure of her feelings. She still loved her, but what she'd tried to do had her so hurt and confused. Then Dawn was suddenly there in her personal space, squealing in delight and hugging her, and the warm weight on her back that was kitty Spike was vibrating slightly in a comforting purr.

"You guys okay?" Dawn asked quietly.

"I am, but I think Spike needs to be a cat right now, so we can't let anyone make him change back until he's ready," she answered just as quietly as she looked over her shoulder. He was kneading her back now as he purred, claws just barely prickling her skin through the fur.

She had no idea what had happened out there. By the time she'd found him, he'd been saying some pretty sad and creepy things to thin air. She wasn't sure if he'd been having a hallucination, a flashback, or something else. Whatever it had been, he was trying to put it behind him and offer her what comfort he could.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Buffy lay in the candlelit near darkness, staring up at the ceiling. Xander had offered her the bed up in the loft, but she'd refused. He and Anya were up there now. Giles had taken the couch and bedding had been put down on the floor for her, Willow, Tara, and Dawn. Her sister was curled up near the wall with Tara and the pretty Siamese cat that was apparently Spike.

She wished she could sleep, but her mind was full of conflicting thoughts and feelings. When they got out of this fairytale place, she'd finish her fall from the tower. She was going to die. She was both terrified and relieved. Once this was over, there'd be no more fighting. No more worrying that she'd mess up and get people killed. Get her friends killed. Or even the pain in the ass vampire she'd grown weirdly attached to, especially after he'd let himself be tortured by Glory.

A lot of things were confusing and up in the air, but she was sure of one thing. If something like that happened here, she'd go after him again, but it would be a legitimate rescue mission and not an attempt to kill him. He'd earned that, at the very least.

She sighed and tried to pull her thoughts away from Spike before…. Nope, there it was. The image of haunted blue eyes before her friends had crowded around her, cutting off her view. He'd looked the way she'd felt after she'd failed to stop Glory from taking Dawn. She'd felt as if the weight of the world had come crashing down to grind her into the dirt. She'd just wanted everything to _stop_. She wondered suddenly if that's why he'd stayed a cat after he and Tara had come back. Had his version of going catatonic been going… well… _cat_?

A pale shape moving in the dim candlelight suddenly caught her attention. It was Spike creeping towards her. Disgust and annoyance surged through her. She had actually been thinking positively about the stupid vampire, so of course he had to get all weird and pervy. Except, as he got closer, she could see that his ears were flattened, his tail was tucked down, and he was literally creeping across the floor as if his legs didn't have the strength to support his small body.

She'd never had a cat before, but she'd had friends who did back when she'd lived in L.A. That was not the body language of a cat on the prowl. She was watching a creature in obvious distress. _Why is he coming to me?_ she wondered, puzzled. Things had improved between them there at the end, with him the only one she felt she could trust with her sister's safety, but if he wanted someone to make him feel better, Tara or Dawn seemed like a better bet.

She wasn't usually all percepto-girl, but she had her moments. When Spike finally reached her side, she had one of them. He'd always been able to read her like a book, and now he could tell that she was scared and confused. He'd come over to comfort _her_.

He laid down beside her, carefully keeping half an inch of space between them. It wasn't enough to keep her from noticing that he was trembling. She reached out to push him away, to send him back to Tara, but she couldn't. It would probably be better for him in the long run – Dawn had told her that he'd taken her death pretty hard – but it would also be cruel, so she pulled him closer instead.

He lay stiffly against her side for a moment, then relaxed, the trembling replaced by a slight vibration as a ragged purr rumbled through him. Buffy closed her eyes and let the sound lull her into a peaceful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Author's Note:** If you don't know what Spike's "female phone sex operator" voice… er, I mean, "mimicking a woman while mocking someone" voice sounds like, watch the rooftop scene in the Angel episode "In the Dark". Actually, go watch that scene no matter what. It's hilarious.

 **…**

The cool breeze was a laughing, whimsical child tugging at her hair as she stood in the early morning sunlight. The soft smile felt foreign, but nice, as did the warmth inside of her. She hadn't smiled like that – _felt_ like that – since before her mom had died.

The sight before her was like a fairytale. _Your bestest male bud has creepy, hairy goat legs while your watcher and best friend are elves,_ Buffy thought with a snort. She literally _was_ in a fairytale – and probably a pretty dark one if Drusilla was involved – but really, she couldn't think of any other way to describe what she was seeing. The interaction of kitty cat, cat girl, and unicorn centaur was weirdly as innocent and beautiful as anything produced by Disney.

"Okay, that's just freaky. Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks that's freaky," Xander said, dimming Buffy's enjoyment of the moment as he stepped out of the cottage to stand beside her.

"You're not the only one," Willow muttered sullenly as she followed Xander outside and glared at the trio out in the grass together.

Buffy looked at them some more, then at her friends, then back again. "I think it's cute," she said, the smile she'd lost at Xander's words coming back, though not quite as carefree.

"Buffy," the redhead's voice had a betrayed quality as she practically whined her best friend's name.

"I'm sorry, Wills, but look at them." She gestured towards her sister, Tara, and Spike. Part of her felt bad for not being all support-o girl, but really…. "That is just adorable."

Dawn and Tara were sitting together – or as close to sitting as Tara could get, her legs tucked under her like a deer in repose – the unicorn centaur's tail flicking and twitching as she taught the teenager how to weave grass charms. The thing that was either freaky or cute was Spike's reaction to the tail.

He was chasing and pouncing on the tufted tip, just generally behaving like a cat and obviously enjoying himself. Tara jerked her tail up suddenly, and Spike danced up on his hind legs to bat at it with velveted paws. Dawn was laughing at his antics, and Buffy thought it might have been the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

That was why she couldn't support Willow's raging grump-on towards Spike at the moment. Well, that and the whole cuddly kitty thing last night. _And the fact that he was willing to die at least three times that I know of to keep Dawn safe._ The fact that Willow's attitude didn't actually make any sense was also a factor, but Buffy knew herself well enough to know she still would have been onboard for the Spike hatefest if not for all of the other stuff.

The last she had known, the Spike tolerance had been divided along gender lines, with Xander and Giles constantly wanting to stake him while Willow was at least polite. Now the witch was seething with noticeable dislike, if not flat out hatred. Okay, yeah, it sucked that Willow couldn't be around Tara while Spike could because of the whole virgin thing, but that wasn't exactly his fault.

 _Not like he avoided getting groiny as a human just to spite you, Will,_ Buffy thought, wishing she could actually say it out loud.

Xander had been the one to tell her about that. He'd been disturbingly gleeful as he announced that Spike had apparently died as a "lonely, pathetic loser." Since Spike hadn't even been back yet at that point, she was pretty sure he'd said it that way just to try to make her think less of the kitty-fied vampire.

If anything, it had actually made her a little bit more forgiving of that whole chaining her up thing. Having Drusilla as a first girlfriend would give anyone warped ideas on romantic gestures. Before her thoughts could wander too far down the horrifying road that was what Dru might consider sexy fun times, Anya popped out of the cottage, beaming happily as she wrapped an arm around Xander's waist.

"The breakfast situation looks good," the demon-turned-human-turned-nymph announced. "There are enough eggs to make omelets for everyone, plus just enough steak to make steak and eggs for my man."

"Mmm. The Xan-man does likey the steaky," Xander said, giving his girlfriend a goofy grin.

Anya's answering grin was quickly replaced by a look of utter horror as she let out a piercing, terrified scream.

Buffy immediately went into a fighting stance, scanning the area for whatever it was she had to slay. She couldn't see anything, couldn't sense anything… was it some kind of invisible threat only a nymph could detect? Then a chilling wail-meow-growl ululated from Spike's deceptively tiny frame, and Buffy felt tingles all along the back of her neck.

He was off in a flash of white and black, slamming into an innocent little bunny rabbit and ripping it to shreds with fangs and claws. Buffy felt a little bit sick as he gave a victory howl and began rolling around in the blood and viscera. Violence was one thing, but that… that was just icky.

"I _knew_ he'd been spending too much time moping around the house and wasn't getting enough violence," Dawn said, sounding smug.

 _Moping around the house?_ Buffy thought in confusion. Before she could wonder too much about it, Anya was walking past her, carefully keeping her distance from Tara as she approached a still happily rolling Spike.

"Who's a good boy?" Anya cooed, scooping him up, bunny viscera and all. "Let's get you all cleaned up and get some milk and yummy-nummy steak into you, you good, good boy!"

"Steak? What? You're giving him my steak?" Xander wailed as Anya carried Spike into the cottage.

It took all of Buffy's willpower not to laugh at the look of pure, smug satisfaction on the Siamese cat's face as he looked at Xander over Anya's shoulder.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Being a cat, Spike had discovered, really put things into perspective. The cat instincts and thought patterns weren't forced on him in this form, but he could sort of bury himself inside of them if he wanted to. At the moment, he wanted to. There was a _nowness_ to the cat thought patterns that was – for the most part – oddly soothing.

Most of the things that had been bothering him were not of the now. They were in the past. Over, done, _dealt_ with. Even the dream world was in the past and could be put aside for just a bit as the cat. The ongoing issues weren't a problem at the moment either. It didn't matter if the chip worked in this world or not, because – right now – the people he most wanted to hit weren't actually human. In the past, Buffy was dead, and she would be again in the future. In the now, she was wonderfully, gloriously _alive_.

It had caused a lot of distress last night, during the terrible now when his beloved slayer had been so scared and confused, but he'd been able to help her. In the current now, she was happy as she talked to Dawn and led the group to the castle.

It was a good now. Buffy was doing okay, still afraid and uncertain but covered in the scent of contentment. He was curled up on Tara's back – far enough away from the others for her to be comfortable – and was warm and sleepy and full of cut up bits of steak that had originally been meant for Harris. In this exact moment, life was good.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Tara watched the others cross the drawbridge and head into the castle courtyard, the warm weight on her back the only thing keeping her from feeling irrationally lonely and abandoned. Xander and Anya had no real reason to stay with her, Giles and Willow had to go to make the charm that would let her be around everyone, and Buffy and Dawn needed to spend time with their mother.

Poor Dawnie. She'd been so torn and so obviously guiltily relieved when Tara had shooed her off with the others. She'd tried to make Spike go, too – he'd talked about Joyce enough in the dream world for her to know how much he'd liked the woman – but he'd just given an exaggerated yawn before pretending to go back to sleep.

Once the others were out of sight, Tara turned her torso to look at her own back. "It's alright if you don't want to, but… well… it's just the two of us right now, if you wanted to talk about what happened last night."

The Siamese cat stood up and stretched before jumping down to the ground. Tara thought he was going to wander off – far enough to be alone while still close enough to help if something attacked her – but instead he changed back to his mostly human form. He stood there quietly for a moment, his back to her as he lit up a cigarette.

"Not really much to talk about, love," he said quietly. "Or for you to worry about. Things just got a bit… complicated in my head, 's all. Was a little too much, and I sorta… got lost in a hallucinatory daydream, I guess. Used to happen all the time when I was a fledge. Dependin' on her mood, Dru would either get upset when I came back from it and slap me around a bit, or she'd snap me out of it herself."

His voice had the same fond wistfulness it always got when he spoke about his ex. After fourteen plus years of knowing Spike and hearing countless stories about his time spent with Drusilla, Tara still didn't know what to think of the weird combination of domestic abuse and pain-based foreplay that had been a big part of the relationship. The pain he liked had been… well, something he liked… and the pain he _didn't_ like had been instantly forgiven and forgotten. It had been a safe, nurturing situation for the madwoman and an unhealthy one for Spike, though she knew he didn't see it that way.

"The more important topic of the moment is you and Red," he said suddenly, breaking her out of her thoughts. "You need to suss out how you feel and what you plan to do about it."

Tara sighed and rubbed her temples. How _did_ she feel about Willow right now? Anger, disgust, hurt, betrayal, understanding, compassion, love.

"I just don't know. I still love her. Part of me wants to hold her close and tell her that everything is okay between us. Another part wants to slap her and ask her how she could try to manipulate me and Dawn like that. And a third part – the part that matured into a confident woman in her mid-thirties – wants to shake her and tell her to grow the hell up. All the parts want to tell her that magic isn't for changing things because they aren't the way she thinks they should be."

"No matter what you decide, make her work for it," Spike advised. "That lot – especially Red – is too used to getting away with whatever wrong they cause. You all have souls, so whatever awful thing you do gets instantly forgiven. Me? I so much as ask for some bloody _recognition_ or at least a bit of encouragement for doin' the right thing, an' I get shut down because it somehow shouldn't be any kind of effort for me."

Before Tara could respond to that, Spike continued on, his voice going higher and lighter as if he was imitating a woman, "'Oh, Willow, you let loose a troll that hurt and possibly killed a bunch of people, but it's okay. Make cookies and everything will be hunky-bloody-dorry. Just don't try to help the people or anything and then dare to point out that you're fighting your nature to do it.' An' if you tell me again that I sound like a female phone sex operator when I do that, I _will_ smack you upside the head," he promised grumpily as he dropped back into his usual vocal range.

Despite the seriousness of her jumbled up emotions about Willow, Tara couldn't help giggling a little at his comment. He finally turned to face her, his slight smile proof that he'd been deliberately trying to cheer her up.

"Only thing you have to decide on right away, pet, is if you need more time. Bit and Red are on their way back now," he told her before turning back into a cat.

Tara squinted toward the castle, just able to make out her girlfriend and the teenage girl she'd helped raise. Time…. Yes, she was going to need time. _I just hope Willow will respect that and not try to use magic to manipulate my feelings,_ she thought grimly as she composed herself.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

The castle was bustling with activity, servants dashing back and forth all over the place as they got it ready for the ball Dawn had grudgingly told her was going to be taking place in a few days. She'd muttered something about it being a sort of meet and greet for Buffy's suitors – two minotaur dogs and the prince of the catkin. After that, she'd clammed up and had refused to say anything more about the subject.

Buffy had no idea what the heck minotaur dogs were or who they might be, but she was pretty sure she knew exactly who the prince of the catkin was. As she walked through the halls, she had to remind herself that Spike hadn't had anything to do with this, so hunting him up to punch him in the nose wouldn't exactly be fair. _Of course, when have I ever actually let fair get in the way of punching him in the face?_

She shook her head to clear it and continued looking for someplace to be alone. She loved her friends, she really did, but they were just a bit too much right now. They wanted everything to be normal, or as normal as it could be considering they were trapped in a fairytale while Willow's relationship seemed to be imploding because of something no one seemed willing to explain to her.

 _Let's keep the dead girl out of the loop so she feels even more disconnected,_ she thought gloomily.

Her mood perked up a little bit at the sight of an open screen in front of what looked like a balcony. She darted out onto it, breathing a sigh of relief as she leaned against the railing. Alone at last.

"Mrow?"

Buffy slowly turned her head, staring at the Siamese cat who had obviously been sitting on the corner of the railing before she'd arrived. She watched quietly as he jumped down and changed to his other form. They stared at each other in an oddly comfortable silence for a moment, both taking in the sight of the other in the sunshine.

"I… uh… I can shove off if you need some time alone," Spike mumbled awkwardly, looking down at his feet.

"Oh, uh, that, that's okay. You can stay. I don't mind," Buffy blurted out, shocked that it was actually true. She wasn't sure if it was due to the all night kitty cuddles or what, but Spike's presence was as soothing as Dawn's and her mom's.

He nodded slowly, then tilted his head to look at her through his long lashes. "So, why aren't you with Nibblet and your mum? Figured you'd be hanging about with them all day."

"Mom wanted some private time with Dawn, since I got some with her earlier. That seemed fair, especially since, you know, I'll be dead and all once this over. We'll probably be sitting in the clouds playing harps together."

Spike wrinkled his nose in disgust at that thought and shook his head. "Ugh. That sounds right boring. Not the place at all for someone like you. No, someone like you, you belong in Valhalla," he said with conviction as he lit up a cigarette. "Warrior's paradise. Fighting, feasting, and fucking. Mostly set up for blokes, but I bet they've a slayer's wing for the straight girls with plenty of half-naked serving boys."

"Uh-huh," Buffy said, eyeing him dubiously. "Not sure fighting is what I'd want in the afterlife. I got enough of that in this one. Peace and quiet sounds good."

There was a strange look in his eyes when she mentioned peace. She couldn't quite define it, but it made her think uneasily of that night in the alley behind the Bronze when he'd told her about slayers and death wishes.

Then the look was gone as quickly as it had come and he was literally waving away her comment, the smoke from his cigarette wafting through the air with the motion of his hand.

"Pssh. Like I said, boring. Nice for a bit, I'll grant you, but dull after a spell. 'Sides, it's a different kind o' fighting in Valhalla. Sparring with fellow warriors, not all that life and death rot you deal with."

"Uh-huh," she repeated, trying to push away her uneasy thoughts. "So, tell me about these half-naked serving boys."

"Well, they'd all be right handsome fellas," he said with a slow smirk, "but only one would really catch your fancy. A particularly fine specimen of manliness with platinum blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a charming smile. And, of course, you wouldn't be able to resist shagging him senseless right there in the middle of the feasting hall in front of all of your sister slayers."

"Pig," she muttered, the insult coming out with more fondness than annoyance.

He just grinned at her in response, the expression making his eyes light up. He really did have pretty eyes. How had she never noticed that before? _Duh, you slayer, him vampire. Mortal enemies, remember?_

Except they hadn't been, there at the end. That had been such a crazy time. Her watcher – the man she thought of as her father – had been thinking of killing her little sister while a soulless demon had promised to protect that same little sister until the end of the world. He hadn't been able to stop her from being cut, but he'd tried with everything he had.

He moved towards her suddenly, her heart rate increasing as he entered her personal space. "You throw that word around like it's an insult," he said, his voice a little husky as he brushed aside her hair to whisper in her ear, "but I know better. Little sis told me all about Mr. Gordo. Somewhere deep in your subconscious, you know I can be very, very… cuddly."

She felt her cheeks heat, but before she could shove him away and voice how very wrong he was, he backed away from her, laughing softly.

"Now, then, there's a squirrel up there that's been mocking me for the past hour or so," he said, pointing up to an overhanging tree. "Gotta teach it proper respect for the Big Bad."

He shifted back to cat, jumped up onto the balcony railing, then up into the tree, leaving Buffy alone with her muddled thoughts and emotions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dawn's Fairytale**

 **Chapter Six**

 **Author's Note:** While 99.9% of this story is in the past tense, there's a scene in this chapter that demanded to be present tense. It adds to the sort of surreal feeling it needs and hopefully won't put people off.

 **…**

He stalked his prey, a sleek, deadly predator as at home in the trees as the creature he was tracking. There it was, the stupid little fluff ball, just sitting there and thinking it had nothing to worry about. It wouldn't have long to regret that mistake. He crouched, hindquarters wiggling slightly as he prepared the pounce. The slightest shift of his weight and…

… the branch snapped, sending him plummeting to the ground, where he landed in an undignified heap. _Always land on their feet my furry white arse,_ he thought grumpily as feminine laughter drifted down. Bloody brilliant. Buffy had seen and was now carrying on like it was the most hilarious thing ever. Still, was good to hear her laugh. He just wished it was because he'd done or said something clever.

His ears twitched suddenly, catching a faint whistle. Two short, one long, one short, one long. It was one of the codes he'd taught Dawn. That particular sequence meant there wasn't any danger, but he should try to find her quickly. He shifted forms and repeated the whistle code. Not for Dawn, but for the real reason he'd been perched on the balcony railing where Buffy had found him.

The laughter stopped as Buffy looked down at him curiously. "What was that all about?"

"Little sis whistled out that I should find her," he explained, nodding slightly to himself at the sounds he was hearing. Any minute now…. "I just passed the call along."

Tara came into view through the trees, Willow trailing along behind her. Neither woman looked particularly happy and there was a distance between them despite the little bag of herbs and virgin hair hanging from a cord around Tara's neck. From what he'd been able to eavesdrop on, Red wanted to talk things out while Tara still needed time to sort her thoughts and feelings. He liked Red, he really did, and he even understood where she was coming from a bit, but he couldn't deny being brassed off with the girl himself.

"Been keeping an eye on me, huh?" Tara asked, warm amusement in her tone and eyes.

"I," he began, drawing on the tiny smidgeon of dignity he still retained, "was chasing a squirrel. You and Red wandering about in the same general area was just happenstance."

"Riiight," Tara drawled, her lips quirking in an impish little grin.

He fought down the sudden urge to bury his face in her hair and breathe in her comforting scent until the world made sense again. The world never really had made much in the way of sense, if he was honest, and, quite frankly, he was convinced he'd end up a toad if he got too touchy-feely with Tara while Willow watched.

Resentment and annoyance flared through him at that thought. As it was now, he'd known Tara for a bloody sight longer than Red had. Why should he curb his natural instincts for a little chit who hadn't grown up enough to realize that the world wasn't a neat and orderly place where everything made perfect sense?

Almost defiantly, he sauntered over to Tara and slid his arm around the small of her back where it merged into the deer-like unicorn body. She leaned into him, the tension leaving her body. He could practically see jealousy rising from Willow like waves of heat, but it wasn't about rubbing her nose in things anymore. Tara was distressed and needed him.

"Bit gave a whistle," he said, nuzzling her hair. "Prob'ly got word that Dru's ready to talk."

Tara's arm wrapped around him in an offer of mutual comfort. He didn't know how he felt about seeing Dru again. She's thrown him away like rubbish only to waltz back into his life and muck his head up enough that he'd made a complete muddle of things with the Slayer. Despite all that and his threat to stake her for Buffy, part of him still loved her. Part of him always would, until the day he was dust on the wind.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

She is a kitty. Meow, meow, meow. She skitters and dances, chasing and tormenting the rats someone had brought for her. Snap, crunch, little bones breaking. Gulp, gulp, and the meat is all gone. Her boy had once brought her rats with the morning paper. Silly boy, playing yang to her yin when he was meant to be yin to Sunshine's yang.

And then he is there, her pretty Spike, followed by his baby girl, the Sunshine, and the white witch. The red witch trails behind, her boxes floating all about her. Behind them all stands the Mother, with Father peeking in with the goat boy and his demon. All there to see her, to watch the words drip from her lips like pearls of blood. Drip, drip, little drops of secrets and prophecy.

"Dru," her sweet one says, cautiously approaching her. So sad to see, caution and restraint where once he would have taken her in his arms and cuddled her close, nuzzling her hair. "I'm here, pet. Say what you have to say."

Such a good boy. He always did listen to his mummy. He didn't always understand, but he did always listen. She reaches out to caress his cheek, and he nuzzles her palm, the habit of over a century overcoming the distance that had grown between them since she had cut him adrift. Poor thing, so lost and confused without someone to belong to. The white witch did what she could, but she was no more the sun than Drusilla herself.

"The chicken that lays this egg has yet to hatch," she tells him solemnly as she moves her hand away.

He tilts his head slightly, her words sinking in, absorbed and analyzed by the heart and mind of a poet. Head and heart, imagination and a capacity for love deeper than the sea. That's why she chose him. The Page of Cups made into a darker version of the knight, his newborn fishes burning all about him.

"The warrior, the champion, and the knight," she continues. "Light can be extinguished and dark cannot stop dark. Love can transmute, but it never truly dies. Remember that, when the mouth of hell cries out for its tasty treat and light and dark argue over the shiny bauble."

"What's all that supposed to mean?" Sunshine asks, frowning in confusion.

"Doesn't matter just yet. The chicken hasn't been laid," her darling Spike explains, waving it away.

"And to that I say a very hearty, huh?" the goat boy interjects.

She drifts away as her boy rolls his eyes, barely aware as he tells the other man, "Doesn't have anything to do with the here and now. It's for later."

Background murmurs, words that float like stars and burst in the air like balloons. They don't matter to her. She twirls and dances, sways to the music only she can hear as she approaches the red witch. Boxes and labels, all in a swirl of controlled, precise motion. Filled with spiders, they are. Skitter-scritch, skitter-scritch, the spiders crawl and make her itch. Rise and fall and twitter twitch, they all go dancing to please the witch.

"Wormy li'l fingers," she murmurs, her own fluttering through the air. The witch flinches away from her, nervous and confused. "You dig them in, muck through what you think wrong and make it right. Force the spiders to dance to your tune, you do. The pretty kitty only dances for the sunshine, and his current owner has learned her own tune."

Her gaze flickers to the white witch who watches her with compassion and understanding. She's danced with the pixies herself, that one has. Words flow from her mouth like honey taken from the comb, simple and sweet, nothing artificial. So much like her William, not seeing the full worth of her heart. She wonders if the white witch will taste like her boy if she kisses her, but before she tries, a familiar, gentle hand rests upon her shoulder.

She closes her eyes and lets herself pretend for just a moment that he's still hers. That he was ever really hers. But she's always known. She'd turned the daisy into night-blooming jasmine, but all flowers needed the sun to grow.

"Dru, love," he murmurs. "Need you here. You need to tell us how to get… get home."

Leashed pain in that word, and she wonders if the others can hear it. The white witch can and the glowing green energy motes in the field of pinkish-gold. Silly boy. Home isn't a dream, it's the place in his heart where his witch and little girl live. It's the place waiting for the sunshine to unlearn her mistakes so she can snuggle inside.

"Only white hats and gray are invited to the Mad Hatter's ball," she tells him serenely, gazing into his eyes. Such lovely eyes her sweet William – her pretty flower – has. "Black hats may only be worn by paper dolls. When the dollies come, the princess will sleep. She must be found and awakened by Love's kiss."

Sunshine looks at him expectantly. "And that means?" she asks.

"You lot are the white hats," he explains, waving his hand towards them. He points to himself. "I'm the gray hat. Dru's the Mad Hatter. We all got brought here from the wak… real world, but the villain of the piece is like the servants and guards in this place. Not real, the way we are. The rest should be bloody well obvious, I'd think."

She changes back into a cat, uninterested in the chatter that follows. There are mice in the walls. Scritchy, scratchy little paws. They whisper, they do, these mice. Little tales of warriors, knights, and champions. Tales for another day, when Sunshine shone among the living.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Tara could almost feel the weight of Willow's gaze as she picked through the closet for the things that were obviously supposed to be hers. The room was set up for both of them, with a cozy little nest of a bed that would be comfortable for both a unicorn centaur and an elf, but she just… she just couldn't.

"Baby, please, can't we try to work this out?" Willow pleaded, the pain in her voice tearing at Tara's heart.

She wanted to give in, to hold her girlfriend in her arms and comfort her, tell her that everything would be okay. Before the dream world, she probably would have. Now, though, she had confidence in herself. Confidence that Willow had tried to take away.

"Not tonight, Willow. I need time, and if you can't respect me enough to give me that time, then… then maybe…." Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath to help compose herself. "If you can't respect me, then this isn't going to work."

"Tara! No, baby, I respect you. You know I do!"

She finally turned to look at Willow, softening a little at how genuinely distraught she looked. "Willow, you turned to magic to try to change me instead of talking to me about it. You've done things like that a lot lately, using magic when there's no reason to."

"Are, are you saying that I'm abusing magic?" She sounded so shocked, like she couldn't imagine why anyone would think such a thing.

 _Oh, Willow, you really can't see, can you?_ How could she be expected to, though? She'd been thrown into the deep end of magic without anyone to guide her. Tara had tried – was still trying – but Willow had surpassed her by so much.

"I can't stay here with you tonight. I can't, and you need to respect that. You also need to respect the magic. If you can go without using it while we're here – except in situations where it's clearly necessary – then we'll talk, okay?"

Without giving Willow a chance to say more, she put her shirts into the bag at her feet, hefted it over her shoulder, and headed for the door.

"Where, where are you going to sleep?" Willow asked as she put her hand on the door latch.

Tara didn't look back as she answered. "Where do you think?"

Then she left, trotting down the hall towards Spike's room. The door had a small flap at the bottom for easy kitty access. Inside was a nice little room with cat toys scattered all across the burgundy carpet. Spike was curled up in cat form on a large round mattress resting directly on the floor.

Tara carefully stepped onto it – grateful her body was more like a deer than a horse – and tucked her legs under her as she gathered the collection of pillows and cushions into a pile to rest her human half on. Before she could reach for Spike, he twitched slightly and shifted form, still mostly asleep as he turned to snuggle in against her.

She wrapped her arms around him and used her binding spell to lock his wrists together, the feeling of comfort and power easing the ache and confusion in her heart. She sighed and closed her eyes, drifting into the best sleep she'd had since waking from the dream world.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

The next day, Tara managed to avoid seeing Willow until they were all – with the exception of Buffy who was being grumpily fitted for a gown for the coming ball – summoned to the main hall. The redhead tried to approach her, but Tara pretended not to see and joined Spike by the window. He was looking out, a puzzled frown on his face.

"What's all this about then?" he called out to one of the waiting servants.

"Another of Princess Buffy's suitors has arrived, your highness," the man said respectfully. "One of the warlords of the minotaur dogs. He should be heading up the path."

Spike growled a bit – likely at the thought of Buffy having other suitors – and leaned out the open window, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply through his nose. Whatever scent he picked up made him frown again.

"It can't be," he muttered. Then he opened his eyes and squinted, a sudden, nearly manic grin lighting up his face. "Oh my god, it _is_!" He backed away from the window and turned to look at Dawn, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bloody hell, Bit, if I didn't already love you, this'd have done it."

"What is it, what'd she do?" Tara asked, peering out the window. There was someone out there, being escorted by palace staff, but she couldn't make out much about him.

Spike started to answer, then just shook his head and laughed. "Not gonna ruin the surprise, love."

They only had about a minute to wait, Spike snickering to himself off and on the entire time. Then the doors opened, letting the new arrival in, and the catkin completely lost it. He laughed so hard he actually ended up falling on the floor, clutching his ribs.

"Oh, god, need to breathe," he gasped out, still giggling.

The minotaur dog glared at him angrily, his tail swishing. She didn't know who he was, but he didn't look much like a minotaur. Instead of an imposing bull, he looked like the humanoid version of a placid little Holstein mixed with a basset hound.

"Hey, gramps, long time no see," Spike said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Such a moo-ving family reunion, init?"


End file.
